Caught In Reverse
by sadie-leona
Summary: Lieutenant Parthenia Annchen has been placed into a world she's seen before - on the big screen. She must recall it to save her friends . . . and lover.
1. Chapter 1

Caught in Reverse

*****THIS IS A REDO OF "I COULD GET USED TO THIS" . . . UPDATES ON I COULD GET USED TO THIS TO COME!**

**Summary****: **Lieutenant Parthenia Annchen has been placed into a world she's seen before - on the big screen. Eerily partaking in the real events of a historical movie she's only seen once and can barely remember, Parthenia has to be on her toes to recall what's coming next and it most likely isn't good - blood, death, and grief. But Parthenia has a chance to change the ending and save the friends - and lover - she's made.

**Extra****:** Takes place towards the beginning of the movie. Different ending.

**Main Characters****:** Tristan + OC

**Rating****: **15+ (romance/language)

**Genre****:** Romance (between Tristan and my character)/Time Travel (Ah! It's not corny and it's not an oh-this-is-really-me-in-a-fantasy-story, trust me!)/Adventure (swings plastic pirate sword)

**Theme Song****:** "Soundtrack To Your Life" - Ashley Parker Angel

Folio One

_starting now I'm learning fast/on this journey to the past_

_-journey to the past - anastasia_

"Maybe they'll close the base down for the day," my mother said from the doorway as I packed a small duffel.

"Mom, the Army's like the mail," I reminded her, jamming the zipper of my bag on the laces of my combat boots. "Shit."

"It's just too dangerous to drive, Parthenia." Her voice was matter-of-fact. Parthenia? Seriously, who would name their poor daughter after the Parthenon - except my archeologist parents?

"I'm going now Mom," I said, rolling my eyes and grabbing my hat, scarf, and gloves from my bedroom table.

"Will you at least let your car warm up?" she asked as I kissed her cheek and walked through the house towards the door.

"_Yus_," I cried, annoyed with her badgering.

"Love you!" she called from the door. "And for god's sake, watch the ice!"

"Yeah, yeah, love you, too," I muttered, annoyed. I grabbed a shovel from the garage and started towards my tiny, bright red Chevy Vega that, last night, I had to abandon at the end of our driveway because of the storm. My little brother, Aqaba - after the Gulf of Aqaba, another doosy from my lovely parents - and his friends trailed through the up-to-your-butt-snow that we had been hit with yesterday, making forts at various strategic places in our front yard.

"Did you happen, by any chance, dig out my car while you were pretending to be GI Joe?" I called to him.

He laughed and shook his head as I heard one of his friends ask what the phrase "GI Joe" had to do with anything. "You've got to be American, chap," Aqaba laughed in a fake British accent. I was thankful that Aqaba was old enough to not latch onto the accent when we moved here. Not that it was bad or anything, but I just couldn't see him with it. He was a Yank through and through. My parents were American archeologists who had traveled to Southern Europe frequently - hence our names. They were older when they started to have kids - my mom was forty when she had me, my dad almost fifty - and I was nineteen now. They soon retired, finding it hard to do the labor they loved with two children, and started to teach at universities in the US, before settling in their dream home here in Northeastern England, when I was about fourteen, and in a home not too far from Kingston upon Hull, bordering the Humber. We all retained our American citizenship, which allowed me to join the US Army when I was seventeen. I was lucky enough to be assigned a base close enough to Kingston that I could live at home and drive to the base. But it looked near impossible today.

I traveled farther and farther down our long drive, Aqaba and his friends' laughs fading. I hadn't realized how long our driveway was until last night when I had to trudge through it in the blizzard. I hadn't seen its beauty, either. I was coming upon the stretch of our driveway that was bordered with sweeping trees, their branches usually fluttering together, over the driveway. Now, they were frozen in place, forming a solid tunnel with at least 50 yards of darkness. I doubt Aqaba and his crew had gotten this far yet, for this truly was a sight of beauty - and a great place for a siege. I stepped into its shadow, just under the lip of the ice, breathing out one, long breath, watching the mist twirl up towards the roof and disappear. I stretched out a hand, letting it glide down the ice as I walked, tracing every grove and scratch. I almost made it to the end when I stopped, aware of a change in the air. The pressure and temperature immediately dropped. I felt my ears pop, and my body shake. I smacked my lips together, my breathing quick and uneven. My ears perked as there was a new sound: a low rumble, a cracking, and then everything exploded.


	2. Chapter 2

Caught in Reverse

**Summary****: **Lieutenant Parthenia Annchen has been placed into a world she's seen before - on the big screen. Eerily partaking in the real events of a historical movie she's only seen once and can barely remember, Parthenia has to be on her toes to recall what's coming next and it most likely isn't good - blood, death, and grief. But Parthenia has a chance to change the ending and save the friends - and lover - she's made.

**Extra****:** Takes place towards the beginning of the movie. Different ending.

**Main Characters****:** Tristan + OC

**Rating****: **15+ (romance/language)

**Genre****:** Romance (between Tristan and my character)/Time Travel (Ah! It's not corny and it's not an oh-this-is-really-me-in-a-fantasy-story, trust me!)/Adventure (swings plastic pirate sword)

**Theme Song****:** "Soundtrack To Your Life" - Ashley Parker Angel

Folio Two

_the power touches me/the power helps us see/the power holds my hand_

_-the power - cher_

"What the hell?" I muttered as I fell - from where, I wasn't sure, but I fell hard, my head knocking against the ice and snow. "Shit," I cried, sitting up. The layout before me was eerily familiar. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I'd seen it before, somewhere, somehow I had seen it. "Where in the hell am I?" I was in a vast, white land. There was snow everywhere and nothing else - no ice tunnel, no Chevy Vega, no Aqaba, no house . . . nothing except unrecognizable yet strangely familiar people in odd garb, standing in a line, their backs to me, their attentions focused on another mass of people heading for them. What was this? Where was I? Did I slip on the ice and now I'm dreaming? No, this was too real. The cold, the sounds, everything was too real to be dreaming.

Suddenly, cries erupted from both sides. The large group were attacking, their arms raised, their axes and heavy clubs ready to strike, but they were still too far away to do anything. Suddenly, a line much like the one before me erupted from the group, their bows drawn back. The group on my side reacted sufficiently, drawing their shields and heavy furs against their bodies. And then, I realized, I had no protection. I had no weapon. I didn't have any clue to what was going on.

"Help," I croaked, I started to run away from the battle. "Help!" I screamed, more to myself than to anything. "Where am I?!"

The arrows came down. They bounced off of the lined group, and a few fell around me. I let out a guttural scream. I was in real danger. I pumped my legs into the snow, plowing forward, yet only getting a few feet away. I looked back at the battle. Ice was cracking and the largest group seemed to be inching across it, a few disappearing beneath. But they were still coming. Arrows were drawn again, and this time I was struck. It grazed my leg, slicing through the calf easily like it was paper. I groaned and closed my hand around it, leaning into the snow.

I had seen this before - I knew it. I tried hard to sort through my memory. I imagined little neurons firing as I screamed at myself. Yes, you remember something . . . little snippets. Death. I remembered that, yes. I remembered that someone was about to die. A figure flashed in front of me, a figure. I looked back at the group, immediately matching it with one of the men.

"Don't," I screamed hoarsely. "Don't go!" They didn't turn to see me. He wasn't going to heed my voice. I pushed my hands into the snow, halfway standing myself up, halfway propelling myself in their direction, swearing as the twinge in my leg grew hotter and hotter. "Don't do it!" I screamed again, falling only a few feet behind them. A few turned and stood, shocked at my presence. I inched towards the figure whom I had seen die. He had dropped his bow and arrow and picked up his heavy hammer, his face looking determinedly at the ice before ice. "You'll die," I said, standing up. "Please!"

"Who is this?" a man said with striking features and a pleasant voice. "Who is this woman?"

"Dag." I breathed the names towards the familiar figure. It had popped in my mind, beckoning to me. He was bald and well shaped. "You'll die. I know what you're going to do. Don't."

Dagonet looked at me, shocked that someone whom he had never seen knew his name. The rest of the group did, too.

"What is this, Dagonet?" the other man said again. He seemed to be the leader.

"Don't go," I said again, a last stitch effort to save his life.

"Don't go where?" another bald yet chubby man asked. "Dag, what she mean? Who is she?"

Dagonet's eyes fell on mine, full of thought and sadness. "I'll be back," he muttered before turning, his muscular legs pumping as he galloped into the middle of the ice. He raised his hammer and came down on the ice, a deafening crack bouncing off of the snow. He raised his hammer again, an arrow striking him in the center of his chest. Dagonet brought his hammer down, the ice shifting beneath us. Another arrow struck him and he fell.

"No!" shouted the fat man, making to start after him. I grabbed his arm. He slapped me. There were more screams from the group as Dagonet raised his hammer for one last time, its impact the greatest of all. The ice separated and the larger group shuddered, handfuls falling to their icy deaths. The rest started to retreat up the snow mountain and out of sight.

"DAGONET!" Yelled the bigger man again, hurtling to save his friend. I knew it was too late. He had not heeded my warning. I was left behind as the rest of the group followed the big man. I knelt down into the snow, succumbing to my surroundings. I tilted my face to the sky, tears of fright spilling down my cheeks.

Where in the hell was I?


	3. Chapter 3

**Caught in Reverse**_Sadie Berger_

**Summary****: **Lieutenant Parthenia Annchen has been placed into a world she's seen before - on the big screen. Eerily partaking in the real events of a historical movie she's only seen once and can barely remember, Parthenia has to be on her toes to recall what's coming next and it most likely isn't good - blood, death, and grief. But Parthenia has a chance to change the ending and save the friends - and lover - she's made.

**Extra****:** Takes place towards the beginning of the movie. Different ending.

**Main Characters****:** Tristan + OC

**Rating****: **15+ (romance/language)

**Genre****:** Romance (between Tristan and my character)/Time Travel (Ah! It's not corny and it's not an oh-this-is-really-me-in-a-fantasy-story, trust me!)/Adventure (swings plastic pirate sword)

**Theme Song****:** "Soundtrack To Your Life" - Ashley Parker Angel

Folio Four

_you make me crazy, i cannot lie/ you make me wish i was somewhere else sometimes/ why do you make me feel so alive/ all my life i've been waiting for a girl like you_

_-girl like you - constantine _

We reached the fortress as the sun started to set, the many fires set within the walls giving it a magnificent glow as we approached.

"It's beautiful," I said aloud.

"Umph," muttered Gawain, causing me to think that many of the knights had a feeling of apprehension to the place.

The motion of the horse between my legs was started to give me cramps and my spine ached from a nasty spill resulting in a shattered tailbone when I was younger. I could see why people thought horses were magical . . . but they were still not my preferred choice of transportation. The gates opened and we inched forward. At the mention of the return of the caravan, people poured out of every nook and cranny of the town.

Bors dropped down from his horse and was surrounded by a dozen or so children and a pretty woman with flaming red hair. He kissed her hungrily, but held her face with softness and care. Perhaps he wasn't such of a brute his first impression told me. Arthur leaped down from his horse and the girl behind him. A man in red came out to greet them. A quiet return turned into a raucous when the subject became concerned with Dagonet's death. A small boy leaped from a cart and ran to the horse that Dagonet's body was draped over. Dagonet's strong arm was exposed and the boy latched onto it, pulling and tugging, and buried his face in it. Finally he was pulled away and with him he wedged the ring from Dagonet's hand. The boy clasped it tightly and was ushered away. He did not seem to be his son. I had stumbled on something much greater than just a few knights and a caravan.

Soon the caravan was dispersed and it grew relatively quiet where we were. Gawain steered the horse towards what appeared to be the stable. Gawain jumped down and offered his hands to help me down. "Garr," I grumbled as I shifted, the pain within my thigh muscles fflamming with as soon as I moved my legs apart. Gawain let a low chuckle out.

"You'll be hurting for a while," he smiled, pulling me down. He set me on my feet but the tremendous stress on my legs pulled me down.

"Oi!" I exclaimed as my legs crumpled beneath me.

"I gotchya," Gawain laughed as he grabbed me beneath the arms and hoisted me up.

"I'm all right, I'm all right," I assured him, leaning against a post as I regained my balance. I stood, silent, as Gawain brushed and fed his horse.

"You've seriously never ridden one before?" he asked, glancing at me through his blondish-red dreads. I shook my head with a yawn. "Then how do the people where you live get from place to place?"

"Automobiles." I knew he wouldn't get it, but it pleased me to say it anyway.

"Automobiles," he repeated. "And those are . . . ?"

"It's a large, complicated, mechanical object that were invented in the early 1900s." Gawain laughed and shook his head, shutting the gate to the horse's stall.

---+---

We settled at the heart of the town - a large commonplace full of tables and benches. Apparently, the boys had to settle where exactly what was to be done with me.

"And there were none traveling with you, Parthenia Annchen?" Arthur asked from the head of the table.

"No," I repeated. "I was . . . abandoned and I was traveling by foot to any type of civilization. And you can just call me Thenia." I decided that I would have to come up with some sort of lie as to how I came here.

"All right," Arthur sighed. "So, until we have a permanent residence for one Parthenia Annchen, also known as Thenia, she will have to take up home with one of us. Any volunteers?"

"I already have too many," Bors brought to the table, pointing his chin towards his mate who had already bore him a dozen children.

"I don't want her," Lancelot muttered, his eyes boring into the space above my head. "And you yourself can't very well take her in while you have Gwenivere."

Thanks, I said to myself. They spoke as if I weren't sitting here.

"And Gawain and Galahad share a room as it is. So that leaves one." Everyone swiveled in their seat to appraise Tristan's reaction.

His shaggy dark hair fell against his face as he bit into a crisp apple. He had been the quietest of all - and the scariest in a quiet-serial-murder type of way. Tristan's eyes evaluated everyone in only a moment and fell on me. There were a few moments of actual terror. What would happen if he refused to house me? I was alone in a world I scarcely knew. Would I just be kicked to the curb? And then he shrugged. I let out a breath, sucking in another as he stood and cocked his head towards me. He turned and walked away. Was I supposed to follow?

I looked to the other knights for an answer. Gawain's eyes were searching mine. "You're his ward, now," he said. I took that for a yes and slung my bag over my shoulders, running to catch up with Tristan's retreating figure. I didn't speak a word as I followed him down alleys and passage ways until he suddenly stopped. I gripped with the heel of my tennis shoes to stop from bumping into him. He glanced over his shoulder and turned into an entrance way into a little room. It was just enough room for a single-sized bed, a chair, set of shelves, and some walking space.

"This is my room," he said, lighting a large candle on the wall next to the door. He walked over to the bed, pulling back the layers of heavy blankets and fur. "You can have the bed."

"I can't," I said quickly. "It's yours."

He rolled his eyes. "Women."

My brow knitted together. I walked to where Tristan stood and set my bag on the bed. Tristan slid past me, pulling off his heavy jacket and throwing it onto the chair. "I'll be back," he said before silently ducking out of the doorway, gone again. I groaned and fell onto the bed, sighing as the straw squished against my figure rather comfortably. I pulled off my tennis shoes, letting them fall to floor. I stripped my jacket and sweatshirt off, revealing my sleeveless shirt, my skin breathing as the cool air hit my bare arms. I riffled through my bag, trying to remember what I had packed. My workout uniform that included combat boots, Blistex, money, IDs, some gum, keys, my digital camera, iPod, and Blackberry. It was strange to see these items in a place where even the most simplest of the technology of my world didn't exist.

I pulled out the bottoms of my workout uniform - cut off gray sweat pants - and quickly exchanged them for my jeans before anyone could come by the door. It had been nearly twenty minutes and Tristan hadn't returned. I set my bag on the floor and slid beneath half of the covers - the other half shielding me from rogue sticks of straw and god knows what - then set my head against the rustic pillow, my body sighing in pleasure. The blankets and pillow smelled like I would image Tristan did: earthy. I couldn't quite pinpoint the individual scents, but it was nice. I fanned my hair away from my neck and closed my eyes.


End file.
